Blast from a NotQuiteForgotten Past
by Vintage'Classic
Summary: It's just another day at work for Katie Bell, who has fled England since the end of the war. What she doesn't expect is the son of her best friends to come looking for her, with questions about his namesake Fred Weasley. Questions Katie isn't sure she's ready to answer.
1. Caught Off Guard

**Blast from the not-quite-forgotten Past**

_**Caught off guard**_

**Just a quick disclaimer to remind you all that contrary to popular belief, I don't own Harry Potter, I just love the characters, settings, plotlines and the series in general. **

"Katie, there's someone out front looking for you!"

"I'm just coming Delilah," I shouted, wiping my beer-stained hands on my cotton apron.

I trudged up the wooden stairs – my heels clicking on the oak – and used the handrail to haul myself into the back of the pub. My hand grasped the cool metal of the door handle and I shoved it open with both hands – it always sticks, nothing a good shove won't fix Delilah insists. As the door jumped open, I was greeted immediately by the lunchtime babblings of the local punters and the odd few faces that were unrecognisable to me.

"Dee?" I yelled, crossing to the other side of the bar.

I saw her long raven hair, cascading down her back and smiled to myself, a plan to sneak up behind her formulating in my head. Merlin, when did I become so boring that the highlight of my day was creeping up behind my boss and scaring her?

I tiptoed over to Delilah, bent down so that my mouth was level with her ear and...She turned round before I'd even uttered a word.

"I could hear your shoes scuffling and I heard you breathing – better luck next time Kates," she smirked.

"Damn you Delilah! You've just spoiled my whole –"

I looked up at the boy standing opposite Delilah and gasped. My eyes instantly pooled with small water droplets and I felt my hands start to shake.

He was a tall boy with dark coffee-coloured hair, but I knew his face. The freckles painted sloppily across his cheeks and nose, his chocolate shaded eyes, his firm jaw and the shape of his mouth - was so familiar, and at the same time so new.

One of his stocky shoulders flexed, as he stretched his arm behind his hair and smoothed the back of it, looking at the floor for a split-second before meeting my eyes. I knew that habit, though I hadn't seen it in over 20 years.

"Ms Bell?" he enquired politely, removing his hand from behind his hair and reaching it out to me.

"Yes, that's me," I said quietly, clearing my throat before turning to Delilah.

"Dee, can I take my lunch break just now?" I uttered.

"Sure, honey, you can take as long as you need. Everything alright, is it?" she asked hesitantly looking between the kid and myself. I shook my head and even managed a small smile.

I hauled off my apron, dumped it on the bar and came out into the open of the pub to speak to the boy. I stared at his face again, my eyes wildly darting across his features, making sure he wasn't a dream.

"Oh, I'm Fred by the way. Freddie Weasley," again, he reached out his hand to shake mine, only this time I accepted.

I knew his name, and when I heard it, time slowed down, and it felt like a sharp knife had been plunged through the skin of my chest and into my heart. I felt his fingers in my own for a brief moment, and then I pulled away.

"Do you want to sit down?" my brain managed to form the words, while my emotions continued to reel.

"Sure," he gave a small smile.

I gestured towards a table near the only window in the tavern and perched onto the chair opposite his. He sank into the one opposite me, and stared at me for a few seconds. I fiddled with the ring on my left hand until he began to speak. It's what I always did when I was nervous.

"I was wondering if I could ask you a few questions. I'm assuming by the look on your face you know who I am, right?" he guessed.

As quickly as I went into the trance that had held me for the past couple of minutes, I managed to snap out of my haze and back into the real world. The very same real world in which; the son of two of my best friends was sitting at the dusty table in front of me. The child I hadn't seen since he was born.

Alicia and I had held Angelina's hand on one side, while George held her other and stood on the other side of the hospital bed. He'd made a joke about how she didn't have enough arms. She'd snapped back that if he'd wanted to marry a bloody octopus, he really should've said something _before_ he knocked her up. I smiled at the memory and looked back at Freddie. I had to call him Freddie – I just couldn't call him Fred.

"You're George and Angelina's baby. Well, you're hardly a baby anymore. You must be...about 18?" I speculated.

He shook his head, smiling.

"Nearly – I'm 18 next month..."

"22nd of June," I finished.

"How do you know that?"

"I was there, wasn't I? Time flies. Not that you'd remember me being there sweetie," the name fell from my tongue easily. Much more easily than I thought it would.

"You were? I guess I should've known that. I don't envy you though – my mother sure has a bloody mouth on her – 'scuse the language. You were my Mum's best friend weren't you? And Dad and Auntie 'Lic's?

I thought you fought in the War with them. Well actually, I know you did – Uncle Harry said so. And so did our History of Magic - revised edition - textbook. You must've been really brave – I've heard all my family's stories and it sounds really awful. Oh I don't mean I expect you to tell me yours; Aunt Audrey says that everyone has their own story to tell and you shouldn't ask for it: you get it if and when someone else chooses to share it. I really don't want to bring back any bad memories or offend you or anything. Sorry, I tend to over-talk when I'm nervous – am I creeping you out?"

"You're not creeping me out – not yet anyway. Yeah I fought in the war; got the scars to prove it too. I was best friends with your Mum and Dad and Aunt 'Lic. You don't know Lee and Oliver too, do you? We were a pretty tight-knit group the seve - _six_ of us!" I stuttered.

"Aren't you forgetting someone?" he asked his eyes boring into mine.

I gulped audibly. I really didn't want to have this conversation – not here, not now. And certainly not with their child.

"Why don't you ask me what you really came here to find out kid; my lunch break doesn't last long," I answered coolly.

"Dad told me to watch out for your personality," he muttered and to his surprise, I gave a small snort of laughter.

"I want someone to tell me about Uncle Fred. I've heard so many stories, snippets, seen old newspapers and books about war heroes. I was named after a great man, but somehow, I still feel like I'm only getting half the story. I just want somebody to tell me about my Uncle and I want that somebody to be you. Dad told me you were the love of his life. He said you were as close to Uncle Fred as he was. And that must _really_ be something, because Uncle Fred was Dad's _twin_!" he rambled.

I sighed, I was completely torn; on the one hand, the guy had a right to know about the pure vibrancy that was Fred Weasley's life. But I really didn't want to have this conversation. My stomach lurched even as I thought about it.

I thought about the last time I'd kissed him. It was during the war.

_He'd gotten old Rabastan Lestrange off my ass and then pulled me into a nearby broom closet._

"_Just like the old days when we were at school here," he'd said, eyebrows waggling suggestively._

"_Fred –"_

"_Shut up Kates. I need to kiss you now, right now. You don't know what I've just seen; wee Colin Creevey being struck down. For a minute it was you Kates," his eyes were dark as he stroked my cheek, his fingers lingering below my eyes for a second._

"_Went after the bugger who did it, but he got away – sent a bloody suit of armour my way. Got rid of it – though it _did _nick my leg – but if I ever see that asshole again, I swear I'll kill him. I saw Wood dragging the poor kid away. I had another one on my tail – I couldn't go back. _

_But Katie, I felt this...this ache when I thought that you might be dead. No, it was this...Merlin; I don't even know what it was. It wasn't like anything else I've ever felt in my life. It's like I was broken. I just...I need you to survive this War. I need you to promise not to die on me. Do you promise?"_

"_Fred, how the hell can I promise –"_

"_Humour me Katie. Just to please me; tell me you'll live for me. And for the baby. "_

"_Only if you promise not to leave _**me**,_" I had insisted vehemently._

"_I'll never leave you. Not ever; tried it before once, remember, and I couldn't do it even though I wanted to." _

_He had looked passionately into my eyes, his own eyes burning with love and desire. His hands had rested on my flat stomach subconsciously and I placed my hand over his. _

"_I promise I won't get myself killed. I'll be waiting for you to come and find me the second we win, I swear!"_

_His lips melded into mine as one of his hands caressed the skin of my cheek, while the other laced itself into my hair. My palms rested on his firm jaw line and his tongue slipped gently into my mouth. I sighed into the kiss as his peppermint breath puffed pleasantly through my lips. He moaned as I lightly nipped his bottom lip with my teeth, tugging at his red locks as I did so. _

"_Fred," I had panted into his mouth, desperately trying to catch my breath._

_We continued to kiss, getting ever more tangled up in each other's embraces, until we were merely a mass of tangled limbs. There was a sudden crash and something bounced off the door of the cupboard. He pulled away quickly and snatched my hand up into his own._

"_There's a bloody war going on," I stammered._

"_I know, so I guess we'd better get back in there and kick old baldy Voldy's ass. Or rather, watch Harry and maybe Ron and Hermione kick his ass for us," he tried to smile, but I could see the fear in his eyes. I pecked his cheek one more time and headed for the door._

"_No, Kates – I want to go first; age before beauty, m'dear."_

_He had stroked my cheek, grasped the brass handle of the narrow door and exited, wand held aloft._

"I'm sorry – I can't do this. Not now, not here...I'm sorry F-Freddie. It hurts too much," I said, abruptly snapping out of my painful memory and ending our conversation.

I stood up and backed away from the table, leaving him sitting on his own. Before I got back to the bar I turned back to look at him.

"Anything else I can help you with, I will. Okay, but you _really_ need to understand that I can't talk about him. Not with anybody and especially not to someone who looks just like him. I'm sorry, kid."

I turned my back to him and began to walk away.

"Dad talks about him. Dad talks about him all the time, he keeps his memory alive. And if he could go back to the same flat he shared with Uncle Fred and pick up the pieces of his life without fleeing the country, why couldn't you?"

"You're Dad's a much braver person than I could ever be. And it wasn't just Fred I lost. It was my parents too and then a few weeks later, my baby; my dead Fiancé's child. It was the last piece of Fred Weasley left on this Earth and it's _my_ fault that it's gone. I didn't even know if it was his little boy or his little girl. So don't sit up there on your high horse and judge me Weasley, because you don't know what it was like – you have no _idea_. Not until you're out on the front line, with people you know, people you care about, dying all around you. There were people I saw dead that I didn't even take the time to get to know; they were just always there, and when I realised they weren't going to be there anymore, I got scared. You don't know who the hell to trust, you're terrified that you're going to be murdered and there's no place that's safe from You-Know-Who and his Death Eaters. Your Dad is one of my heroes; I sure as hell didn't cope the way he did. You know what they say, "If you can't take the heat - get out of the kitchen". I couldn't take it, and so I left – just like I'm leaving right now."

I didn't even think – I just apparated. Back in my own room in my own flat, I snuggled up with my duvet and blanket and tried in, vain, to pull myself together.

**So this is just going to be another wee chapter or so – not a massively big story, just something that popped into my head one day. You know, those "it would be really interesting if..." Well that's what this is. It's based on a story by ****Bendleshnitz****called "Angelina's Smile" which is really sweet and I definitely recommend checking out! So, till next time readers. **

_You heard it here first_

**Vintage'Classic**


	2. Realisation

**Blast from the not-quite-forgotten Past**

_**Realisation**_

**Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter**

I sighed angrily, as George laid his hand on my shoulder. I was stressed beyond belief and staring at my son intently.

"What did she say after that, Freddie?" George said impatiently.

"She said: "it wasn't just Fred I lost. It was my parents too and then a few weeks later, my baby; my dead Fiancé's child." Then she said it was her fault and that I had no idea what it was like during the war and I shouldn't be the one to judge her."

I clapped my hand over my mouth and made a noise of disbelief. I shared a look with George and he looked as though he was going to be sick. I didn't know what to say, or do. I wished we'd gone to find her earlier. We thought she must've moved on and found some kind of happiness; we thought that's why she hadn't come home. The truth was a lot worse.

It meant acknowledging the fact that she'd been pregnant during the war. How long had she known she was pregnant? She must've known, surely. She wore a lot of jumpers, but how far along had she been? Why hadn't I noticed, why hadn't she confided in Alicia and I. We told each other everything – we were closer than close. Did Fred know? Had she kept it a secret from him too? If he knew, why wouldn't he tell the rest of his family? Why hadn't he confided in George? Or us? Why did she lose the baby? Why was she put through hell time and time again, and expected to just get on with it? Why hadn't she contacted 'Lic or I?

I felt even more sick when I thought about the rest of us - we'd all settled down - some of us had families, even. While Katie had to mourn the baby she never knew. George and I had two healthy children; we were still close to Lee, Alicia and Oliver. We had support from all of the Weasleys, stable jobs and a nice house. It wasn't fair. Why couldn't it be fair?

"I'm going to get Alicia to come over. She needs to hear this," I muttered, stumbling out of the room.

"Freddie, stay here a minute will you."

"Is Mum okay?"

"She's had a shock – I think we all have. I'm just going to check on her, okay?"

I couldn't stop the tears streaming down my face as I entered the room that I shared with George. As luck would have it, the first picture I saw as I sank onto our bed, was a framed photo of Katie and I, sitting on top of a chest of drawers. I hiccoughed loudly, picked up the frame and cradled it against my chest.

I heard the door open. I heard George's footsteps approach. I felt his hands circle my body, and his head rest against mine.

"G-G- George, w-why isn't it f-fair? W-why K-Katie? W-was the n-necklace a-and t-the war a-and being h-hunted d-down and h-her p-parents not e-enough?"

I couldn't control myself. I was hiccoughing loudly and tearing at my hair, while George tried to keep me from destroying the room. I started to shout wildly.

"W-WHY WERE W-WE SO L-LUCKY? K-KATIE DIDN'T-"

"I KNOW, ANGEL! I know she didn't deserve any of this crap. That's...t-that was our n-nephew or n-niece that she was carrying. You think we should've fought harder to find her, I know you Ang. But you know that she didn't want to be found. We had Harry, Ron, Kingsley, Dad, and Percy all on the lookout for her. We can sit back now and wish we'd done more, but didn't we do everything we could at the time? We need to get Alicia, Lee and Oliver over here. They can help us. You need to calm down, sweetheart; you'll only make yourself sick."

I looked up at him. His eyes were bloodshot and tired, and I could tell that his mind was willing me to stop crying. I tried, but I just couldn't stop the tears. I curled myself into George's arms – the photograph pinned between our bodies – and continued to cry.

I felt like I was going to vomit, and I squeezed my stomach in, as I tried in vain to stop crying. I was breathing heavily, but at least I wasn't crying. I sat there, letting him hold me for a while, before pulling away, a quiet sob escaping my lips.

"I don't know why I do this – I never u-used to cry this much," I tried to explain myself, but I found I couldn't.

"I know Angel - I get it. Don't worry; I won't let anyone else know you're just as hysterical as Alicia," he tried to make me smile. He almost succeeded.

When Katie had first left, I'd kept a tight lid on the utter misery I felt, when I had realised she was gone. I didn't ever say anything to anyone about it. Alicia had come to me for a few long chats, the week after we found her letters.

There was one addressed to each of us, and I still, hadn't opened mine. I'd decided that if I opened it, then it meant Katie really was gone. The others had explained that she'd said she had no plans to return to London. Alicia had shown me hers, sobbing on and off, and had talked intensely about Katie and also about Fred. I had sat stoically, and had managed not to show emotion of any kind. I'd done the same whenever George spoke about Katie, or if Lee or Oliver brought her up at a get-together.

I subsequently realised that the outburst had been a culmination of thoughts, feelings, fears and emotions that had been building up since Fred's death and Katie's departure. I'd just let everything I kept in a drawer at the back of my head free. And George had been on the receiving end.

"Oh George, I've ruined your T-shirt," was the only sentence I could muster.

George smiled, looking down at the damp patches of salt water and snot – the only evidence of my mental breakdown that I had left behind.

"It's okay. I know a woman who's fantastic at washing and ironing T-shirts; she'll manage to fix it. She's a bloody wonder! But I'd say it's time we found the others."

I nodded seriously. George held out his hand to me, and led me to the fireplace in the living room as I wiped my blotchy, wet face with my other hand. He put his arm around me as we knelt and then leaned into the fire.

**And that's all for now, folks. The next chapter will be up really soon. Tell me what you think :D**

_You heard it here first_

**Vintage'Classic**


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